


Under-Cover(s)

by cowboykylux



Series: Flip Zimmerman/Reader Uploads [11]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Disguise, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Married Couple, Roleplay, Saturday Night Live References, Sexual Roleplay, Undercover Disguise, Very Horny Though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: “Honey?” You ask, because that’s him, that’s your Flip.“Baby.” He says with a nod of his head, leaning against the door frame real sensual, casual, as if this were the most easy breezy normal thing he’d ever done.“What…is this?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, halfway torn between bursting into laughter, and yanking his lips down onto yours.Because fuck, though it isn’t anywhere near what your husband normally looks like, how he normally dresses, or even how he normally carries himself…you can’t deny that this look is – while incredibly ridiculous – extremely attractive.(aka i'm still really fucked up over the Slow sketch from SNL lmfao)
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: Flip Zimmerman/Reader Uploads [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221752
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Under-Cover(s)

You’re waiting up for him, as you always do. It’s late, but that’s nothing new, nothing special. He’s been going in late lately, having to stay extra hours at the station, people fucking up their paperwork which fucks up his paperwork which which which. He had called you though, called to let you know he was on his way home, and eagerly, you waited.

It’s just after two in the morning when there’s a knock at the door, and you frown. Panicking for a split second, you check to make sure your robe is tied all the way tight, and fearing the worst, you rush to the foyer. Flip never knocks, why would he? He’s got his key, unless something happened to it, unless something happened to him.

You practically yank the door open, and are met with a sight so confusing that you almost don’t know what to make of it all.

“Honey?” You ask, because that’s him, that’s your Flip.

Except…it’s not. Not how you left him, anyway, with a kiss and a smile and a fresh mug of coffee when you had visited the station for lunch. Instead of his neatly ironed flannel and blue jeans, he’s wearing a black tank-top and camo jacket. Instead of his star he’s got silver chains, and instead of his boots, there’s a shiny black pair of loafers on his feet.

“Baby.” He says with a nod of his head, leaning against the door frame real sensual, casual, as if this were the most easy breezy normal thing he’d ever done.

“What…is this?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, halfway torn between bursting into laughter, and yanking his lips down onto yours.

Because fuck, though it isn’t anywhere near what your husband normally looks like, how he normally dresses, or even how he normally carries himself…you can’t deny that this look is – while incredibly ridiculous – _extremely attractive._

He doesn’t answer your question at first, instead holds up a pint of your favorite flavor of ice cream.

“I brought you ice cream.” He says, and obvious statement, and you do crack a smile then at the situation, even as you take it from his huge hand.

“Thank you Flip, but what – ”

“My name’s Bryan.” He corrects, and you hesitate for a minute, picking up what he’s putting down, knowing exactly what’s going on here.

“With an I?” You ask, because you have to know.

And he smiles then too, he breaks character as he scratches the back of his neck in a very Flip manner, chews the inside of his cheek and shakes his head at you.

“No, a Y.” He winces, and you wince too, the both of you giggling like teenagers there in the dark of the foyer.

“Flip, ew.” You tease, making him immediately playfully straighten his shoulders, give you a warning look that has no real heat behind it, a look that has you rolling your eyes anyway as you apologize, “Sorry, Bryan. Don’t be shy, come on in.”

You leave the door, leave the foyer entirely, as you go to the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer. It’s halfway melted, now something closer to ice cream soup than whatever it originally was, but that’s no problem. Ice cream re-froze just fine, even if the texture might be a little off.

You keep bracing yourself for his strong arms to wrap around your waist like they’re wont to do, but a couple seconds go by and your husband still hasn’t glued himself to your body. You frown with concern, thinking maybe something has happened, and close the freezer, sticking your head out into the hall to try and get eyes on your man.

“Honey?” You ask, calling quietly, not wanting to wake up the baby.

You see him creeping through the living room, a strange sort of slow-motion to his limbs. You have a million questions, but you mostly just stare at him, because while he’s being very silly, he’s also taking off that awful jacket of his, letting it slide down down down his arms and onto the couch as he passes by it.

You have a thing for his arms, he knew it. You knew he knew it. The way they were creamy smooth, speckled only with a few beauty marks and even fewer scars, ones that made him look like the badass he was trying to be right now.

“I’m on my way.” He winks in the low light of the living room, but he doesn’t seem particularly eager to get to you in that panicked rushed way he always is normally.

“…Are you okay?” You ask, putting your hands on your hips.

“Yeah I’m just taking my time baby.” He reassures you, and you’re really smiling now, really on the verge of getting the giggles, because he doesn’t ever call you baby, not really, not like that.

“Can I convince you to walk a little faster?” You quirk an eyebrow, fighting a grin, but he holds his hand up and shakes his head.

“Nope – ” He starts, but you cut him off by undoing the tie on your robe completely, the plush fabric parting and revealing your naked body underneath it, making him choke, making him have to stumble onto the couch so he doesn’t lose his footing as he croaks out an, “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” You grin, the robe sliding down your arms to pool around your wrists.

He leans back against the couch, legs spread and arms resting on the tops of the cushions, and dammit all, he looks good. He looks so good.

Especially when he raises one of his strong hands and crooks it, beckons you forward with an, “Bring that ass here.”

You want to be difficult, feel that it is your duty as his most beloved wife, to be difficult.

“Who are you talkin’ to like that?” You ask, sauntering across the living room and settling on his lap, your legs on either side of his wide hips, your hands tucking his hair back behind those big ears of his that you so adore, before slowly removing the ugly sunglasses away from his face. “Because I know it ain’t me.”

“Ketsl.” Flip warns, and you bite a laugh away from your mouth, trying to school your expression.

“Sorry, _Bryan._ ” You say, make sure to be breathless, like those girls in the adult flicks that keep premiering.

You think this whole scenario is a lot like those flicks; you in your undone robe, sitting on his lap while he looks like he does coke off of a girl’s tits.

Speaking of tits, Flip is drawn to yours the second they’re close enough to his face. He pushes them together and nuzzles his face into your cleavage, kisses the tops of your breasts and bites the flesh of your sternum, teeth scraping lightly against you.

“It’s okay baby,” He says, voice muffled by the way he’s suffocating himself if your chest, “But you know what I was thinking?”

He peers up at you, and you smile, comb your fingers through his hair.

“What’s that?” You ask, indulging him, always indulging him.

“I was thinking we could play that game you like.” He offers, a glint in his eye that slowly deepens and melts into the very familiar look of lust.

“Hmmm, which one?” You ask, arching your back into his hands, pressing your body against his, giving the both of you what you want.

“The one where we fuck each other until we black out.” He says so low that you feel the baritone of his voice practically pass through you, the vibrations of how deep his register can go, shaking quaking through you.

“Oh, I do like that game.” You’re really breathless now, the wind knocked out of you at the thought that you’ll get to come and come and come again, as many times as he can make happen, as many times as he can drag out of you.

He loves dragging them out of you, the moans, the orgasms; it’s his own personal championship game, his own high score he’s trying to beat. The lucky number so far is eight, eight times in three hours, and you have a feeling something about this new look, this new costume, this new disguise…something about it means tonight you’ll have no trouble breaking the record.

Flip tightens his grip on you and hoists you up as he stands, making you nearly yelp out as you cling to him. He’s good about shit like this, you think, the Marines did one thing right for him – bulked him up huge, big and strong, able to carry you no problem. 

And carry you he does, all the way to your bedroom, all the way to the bed where he dumps you, makes you bounce on the mattress with a laugh and a, “Hey!”

“Put some music on.” Flip instructs, bossy bossy bossy.

You think it’s funny, when he thinks he’s in charge. You humor him anyway, indulge him, and you roll your eyes as you leave the robe on the floor, walk over to the record player.

“Which one?” You ask, leafing through the vinyls, wondering what he’s in the mood for.

“One that’ll make you wet.” He says, smooth, too smooth, so smooth that you simply have to twist around and give him a look, one that conveys how impressed you are.

“Can’t get wet if I’m already wet.” You wink over your shoulder.

That seems to be the thing that breaks him, breaks his character. He’s suddenly demanding, suddenly insistent, abandoning the slow and composed attitude of this disguise. That quiet desperation of his comes back, the one you know and love, as he walks you backwards to the bed, crowds your space even as you fall back onto the mattress, back of your knees hitting the soft sheets.

“Let me see.” He asks, dropping to his knees eagerly at the edge of the bed, right where you’re sitting.

You smile, because there he is, that’s your husband through and through, and he bites his lips as you spread your legs for him. Almost immediately he shoves his face into you, that nose of his prodding against your folds, making you chuckle at his eagerness.

“Yes!” You encourage him, heart beating fast, thinking to yourself that he looks criminally hot.

He winds his arms under your thighs and yanks you down so you’re laying flat, making you sigh, as his tongue already gets to work, already begins licking up the slick that’s making a mess between your thighs. You sigh happily, because fuck you’ve been waiting all day for this, wanted this ever since he ate you out before you served him breakfast. You’ve been thinking about this tongue for damn near a whole day, and your knees squeeze against the sides of his head now that you’ve finally got it back in your pussy where it belongs.

“You’ve got such sexy arms.” You groan, because it’s the only thing you can really see in the moonlight. His head is between your thighs and his tank top of black, so all that’s visible are those muscular biceps that flex and tremble around you.

“Yeah?” He asks into your pussy, making you groan and moan loud, making you have to slap a hand over your mouth so you don’t accidentally get too loud and wake the baby who sleeps only a few rooms away down the hall.

“Yeah, and big hands. Big feet.” You grin, other hand tangling in his hair, holding him in place as you press your hips up to meet each thrust of his tongue as he wriggles it inside you. “You know what they say about men with big feet.”

That has Flip smiling, you can feel it, feel the way his mouth comes up to a quirked smile against you before he’s doing something, _something_ like magic with his lips and his teeth and he’s sucking and suddenly you’re coming, back arching and legs tensing up where they’ve been thrown over his shoulders.

His goatee scratches your skin and your body is shocked through with bliss, white hot pleasure spreading up your spine. It’s the first of many, you know. That thought alone makes you breathe out low and slow through your nose, your legs shaking shaking shaking as he manhandles you, pushes your pleasure-soft body farther up the bed.

He rolls you over onto your stomach, presses your face into the mountain of plush pillows you keep on your side of the bed, steals one or two of those pillows and uses it to prop your hips up, uses it to support your pelvis while you can’t, your muscles made of marshmallow.

You hope he’s about to fuck you properly, but no, not yet, not if his tongue returning to your cunt is anything to go by. You’re about to lift your hands, about to prop yourself up so you can have leverage to push back against his face, but he’s too quick.

He grabs your wrists and crosses them behind your back, and you huff.

“Flip!” You whine as he cuffs you, shiny silver metal bracelets that he must have stashed in his back pocket, and you just hadn’t noticed. “Hey – no fair – ”

“Legs spread kestl,” He shushes you, kisses down your spine, smacks your ass hard enough to make your cunt drool all over the pillows. “I’m gonna get three out of this tight pussy before I shove my cock in you, and that’s a promise.”

Damn, you think, you had really hoped to come on his cock the whole night. And you would, you knew he’d make good on his promise, but you wanted to get railed sooner rather than later, wanted to feel the hot heavy slide of his dick in and out of your pussy now, not in an hour or however long he was going to make you wait.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine, not wanting to wait at all, wanting it now.

“I don’t know the meaning of the word, baby.” Flip’s made his way back down to your pussy, his calloused thumbs spreading your folds once again.

There’s come there for him to suck up, and he does, smears his face in it, rubs his face back and forth to bury himself in your cunt. It’s different from behind, different but still really fucking good, and your back pinches up because you desperately want to rock back onto his tongue, and you can’t.

“Oh – Flip – ” You moan, an error that makes him smack your ass, not even bothering to stop eating you out. You gasp, correcting your mistake, calling him by this fake name to go along with the persona, “Bryan, sorry, Bryan!”

You come again, easier now that the first one has already opened you up, has already given you a taste for the waves of pleasure that are yet to come. You call out his name again and again, can feel the sweat on your back where your arms, wrists, hands, are touching from the bindings. Your nipples rub against the sheets and you moan into the pillows, coming as he drinks you down.

He’s pleased with that, and one of his hands leaves your hip. You can hear the clink of his belt, the zipper being tugged down as he fishes his cock out, jerks himself off while he eats your pussy. He’s the pussy eating king, you’ve decided, you want to shout to the whole world.

Instead you just moan, face pressed into the pillows to try and mitigate some of the noise.

“Yeah that’s right baby.” Flip grumbles, getting too lost in his own head as he pulls away, jerking himself off faster. You can hear it, can hear the stickiness of it, can hear him spitting into his palm to slick up his cock. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet. I love taking you apart, love making you come on my tongue.”

Instead of his tongue though, it’s his fingers that find their way between your legs. They’re wet from your own arousal, your own orgasm, and the noise that it makes when he pumps them slowly in and out of you is almost sick. You’re grateful for the pillows because there’s no way you’d be able to hold yourself up for him, not at all, not if your next orgasm depended on it – which it does.

If he’s the pussy eating king, then he’s the fingering master, you think as he finds no trouble at all bringing those quick breaths out of you. You’re panting and he’s panting just from the sheer proximity of your body to his, his heart beating straight through to his fingers. You can feel it, feel the way the blood is pulsing through him as he curls his hand against your walls, his middle three fingers thrusting into you right against the spot inside your cunt that makes the stars dance behind your eyelids.

“Fuck,” You’re so wound up, desperate, you’re so close to coming again that it feels like you might scream if you can’t, like you might burn the entire world down if he stops now. “You really do have big fucking hands.”

“Know how to work them too, don’t I? You like that? Like the way I touch you?” He’s babbling now too, the two of you a mess for one another, the two of you so hot for one another that he’s coming onto your lower back just because he has to, just because he needs to to get it out, to make room for the rest of it that he’s going to empty inside you.

“Bryan _please_ can I have your cock?” You know he’s still hard, you know he is, he’s never finished after coming once, “I’ll blow you, I’ll fuck – I’ll do anything, just get your cock in me.”

“No, you haven’t earned it yet.” He denies you as his fingers speed up, as his thumb finds your swollen clit and your eyes snap open.

“Bryan, honey – yes, right there, please?” You’re begging, pleading, crying because he doesn’t relent, doesn’t pull away, brings you to a third orgasm easily. You don’t even know why, don’t even know what you’re asking for, when you gasp out a, “Please!”

You want the fucking cuffs off, tell him as much by snapping your fingers and pointing to the restraints. He quickly gets them off of you, tosses them across the room, neither of you bothering to check where it lands.

With your wrists free, he rolls you over onto your back once again, spreading his come all over the sheets, your lower back sticking to them. You don’t even care, you have to do the laundry anyway. You watch Flip as he shakily crawls up the bed, sits upright against the headboard.

He’s still dressed, still has his fucking tank top and chains on. Somehow, in the throes of your orgasm, you missed him taking off his pants, which you’re grateful for, because the last thing that you really want right now is chafing from the denim.

“Now, there’s a good girl.” He purrs, beckons you forward yet again, pats his muscular thigh and in that deep voice of his says, “Come sit on my cock baby.”

You try to be sultry as you slink up the bed, catlike and sexy. You bat your lashes at him and have half a mind to suck his dick, to blow him like you said you would. But you’re too needy right now, too hungry for him, and when you finally make your way all the way up to where you’re straddling his thighs, you decide you’ll blow him in the morning.

“Oh!” You sigh happily as you sink down onto his cock, finally getting stuffed full the way you’ve been after, finally getting speared on his dick the way you’ve wanted, “Oh yeah.”

“Look at me.” He nips at your jaw, hands squeezing your tits, palms spread across them encompassing them as much as he’s able to.

“I can’t.” You shake your head with your eyes closed.

“How come?” He asks with a frown, letting out a long groan as he bottoms out completely inside you, as he can feel the head of his cock knocking your cervix, can feel the wince of pleasure, the shock of it, that ripples through you.

“Because I’ll laugh.” You say truthfully, and even just the mention of him disguise, the mention of how ridiculous it is, has you biting back a grin, has your chin wobbling from holding back a fit of giggles.

“Ketsl,” Flip whines, chuckling in his own right, shaking his head and grinning, “Come on, isn’t this sexy?”

He rolls his hips at that, rolls them in a way that makes you bite hard on the meat of his shoulder. You’re oversensitive, he knows that, you know he knows that. You’ll move your hips soon, just needing a moment to set yourself right, needing the buzzing bliss in your bones to quiet enough that your muscles aren’t jell-o.

“Where did you get these clothes?” You tease, hands smoothing over his shoulders, down his muscular chest, toying with the silver chains that had a real weight to them, enough to make you wonder who the hell these belonged to, “The back of a pimp supply truck?”

“I resent that.” Flip laughs out loud at that, a belly laugh that shakes through you, makes you shuffle back enough while still keeping his cock in you, a movement which proves difficult because as you lean back, he leans forward, the gravitational force of your tits keeping him close. 

“Hold on, if we just…” You tug the offending jewelry and shirt over his head, “There, now that’s something.”

“Now I’m just naked.” Flip points out, and you grin.

“Exactly.” You say, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him properly for the first time all evening, kissing and kissing him.

“You’re terrible to me.” He says between your teeth, says with his tongue stroking the roof of your mouth, sucking on your lips and biting them, kissing you with everything he has, “Terrible. I’m going to fuck you so good.”

“All yours, _baby._ ” You say, a playful mockery of his sexy smooth voice that sounds like it belongs in a porno and not on your husband.

He pushes you backwards at that, has your stomach swooping from being handled so roughly, so quickly.

“Flip – !” You yelp out, yelp because now he’s got you right where he wants you, has got you in the perfect position to plow his cock into you.

He was good about giving you a few minutes to let your cunt calm down, was good about making sure you weren’t crying yet, weren’t sobbing the big fat tears that often graced your cheeks. Those would come later, would show up when he pushes you over the edge for the fifth, sixth, seventh time. For now, you’re just sweaty, so sweaty, and loud.

“Ketsl, oh shit, (Y/N) god this pussy’s so good.” Flip’s cock feels heavenly inside you, and you push up to meet his thrusts, hungry, chasing the way it absolutely bangs you up from the inside. He’s not holding back, not like this, not now, and you’re glad, so fucking glad for it. “You’re so fucking tight, let me loosen you up, let me – ”

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting this all fucking night – ” You’re over the moon, you’re elated, you’re on fire, you’re ablaze with white hot pleasure as he works his dick inside you right, as he spits in your mouth and you swallow it down, as his hand closes around your throat and he grinds his hips against yours, as sucks on your neck and bites at your jaw and makes you moan moan moan for him.

“I’m gonna give it to you nice and slow baby, make it last all night.” He says, and that ruins it, ruins the whole mood, because you’re laughing again, laughing in between moans that make your chest hiccup.

“Phil oh my god.” You want to cover your face, want to cover his face.

You settle on the latter, a palm playfully smacking at his face to push his head away, because he’s too much, he’s just too much. You love him so much, love him as he bursts into laughter with you, love him as he bites at your fingers, nibbles at your palm. You love him even as he still pushes his dick into you, still fucks you real hard with it. 

“Princess, you keep teasing me like this and I’m only going to make you come six times.” He attacks your neck, your face, your chest with kisses, big sloppy wet ones; ones that have you shimmying and wriggling away from him, ones that tickle from his goatee.

“You wouldn’t dare.” You gasp, as if such an offense were criminal, and his eyes are sparkling with mirth when he kisses you on the lips, kisses you and rolls his hips against yours, fucks you nice and slow just like he promised.

“I wouldn’t,” Flip says, and there’s a blush high on his cheeks that you can see even in the moonlight, “But Bryan would.”

“Phil I cannot with you – ” You groan, a groan that melts into a moan that melts into a gasp as you’re coming, somehow inexplicably coming, coming despite the awful cheesy lines that you smug as shit husband keeps dropping.

“You married me.” He reminds you with a playful teasing smile of his own, fucking you through your orgasm, making you clutch at your chest, at the meat of his back, the hard muscles there that are working so hard to get you off, working so hard to keep you satisfied. “You chose this, all of this.”

And he’s right, you did. You married him happily, and you loved him happily, and you laughed with him happily, even as you get fucked. The sex you can laugh through is the best kind, you think, puckering your lips for another smooch, demanding his affection even as he’s giving it to you.

“You’re so fucking sexy, I hate you.” You pretend to be angry, a playful grin hurting your cheeks as the stars begin to fade behind your eyelids, as that white hot heat starts to cool down to just a red blooded simmer, “Come on, you gotta get four more out of me.”

“Oh no baby,” Flip shakes the sweaty hair out of his face as he grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, as he drags you bodily to a cleaner part of the bed, hell bent on soiling all the sheets, as he picks up your legs and yanks you into a position he’s happy with.

Your chest is warm with love and laughter, but your pussy and hot and wet and you’re still in the throws of sex, in the heat of fucking, and you find that you don’t mind one bit this stupid outfit or the cheesy lines, not when he bends you in half and his hips begin to piston into you once again, and he says with a smirk,

“I’m aiming for _ten_ tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> i really dont have an explanation for this i was just h*rny tbh lmfao


End file.
